


Ivond

by Hakero



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gay Character, Gay Male Character, Hero Complex, Inquisitor Backstory, Loneliness, M/M, Pain, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hakero/pseuds/Hakero
Summary: He once was a boy with skin pale, delicate as fresh snow and eyes that stirred the souls around him as they peered through the darkness of green gems. Hair worn in a long pageboy cut shimmered in the sun, resembling sugar within a bowl. His graceful ways and charm won over the hearts of men. Always, he loved with care. Making sure those he bedded where welcome over for his council. Tea, friendship, and warmth by the fireplace for he knew how harsh the world outside could be.





	Ivond

 

 

                                                           

 

 

 

Once a boy with skin pale with the likeliness of fresh virgin snow, eyes that stirred the souls around him as they peered through the darkness of green gems basking

in the holy light of the maker. Hair worn in a long pageboy cut shimmered in the sun as if a sugar within a bowl  as each crystal caught the sun's embrace. His

graceful and pious ways and charm won over the hearts of man, making sure those he befriended where welcome over for his council or in need of company. Tea,

friendship, and warmth by the fire he offered to those in need, for he knew how harsh the world could be. He was tired of not being able to reach further into the

sky, yearning to swim within the stars with an aching hunger for an unattainable freedom.

 

Cuts eventually run deep upon his pale skin, eyes green as gaia’s spring but the whites now glossed in red with fear. Hair once long to his sides now short and

uneven as if shorned by a rusted dagger. He cared only to move swiftly through the shadows. The robes of sky blue with threaded gold patterns he once wore had

been donated to a family that had sold them for coin. In return the father of the family made him armor of sturdy leather that now binds his body tight keeping his

tools of his trade in place

   Ivond grew up within the Free Marchars city of Ostwick as the second eldest of the Trevelyan house. Secretly he studied Tevinter history and practiced the elven

language. Short noble blades gilded in white gold embraced his sides giving him a sense of purpose and comfort. He would feel bare without. Others yearning for

politics and pleasures of the nobility’s coin displeased his pallet. If he was not secretly turning pages he was found watching over those who served his family's

house.

Repaying them with gifts of fine wines and exotic food when he could expense, extending friendships to those who kept to themselves and seemed lone within the

world.

Prying eyes watched as his white hair lovingly draped past his shoulder, the robes he wore of blue cloudless skies and green eyes of emeralds pierced the hearts of

young maidens yearning for his attention and clawed at his every kind remark.

His family became enraged and demanded the end of his studies to focus on the ways of nobility. They closed him off from all those they felt influenced his

uncommon curiosities. He was told by a spirit that roamed the halls of his parent’s deeds. A spirit that loved to make mischief , keen upon the workers within the

kitchen as it misplaced herbs and spices to make others laugh to find them in the most particular of places.  

He decided to flee within a caravan with shady folk in search for a new life. His hair cut short, clothes modest and weapons of the hand and mind out on display , his

wits as sharp as his blades. He was anew, but few knew who he was and and told his family of his travels since they were poor and in need of coin and a reward was in offer.

He moved to Val Royeaux, where he joined a group named The Red Jenny’s and learned of the trade.

Eventually his presence was well known of due to the whispers of man, he was to be found but not by his family. For the letters where intersected and the

messengers were tipped off, leaving those who where in need of gold empty handed. A bard was sent to scout this creature and had found him after a rival house

angered by his interests in his son had blossomed a romance. They didn’t approve and felt the house was violated and wanted a lesson to be taught.

Within the nights dark embrace a storm brewed. The skies crackled with light and the sound of the gods groans in emotion roared as it fed the earth the tears of the

heavens lone maker. Ivond tended to a false trail promising temporary employment when suddenly the bard and three others cornered him within a small vacant part

Val Royeaux that sat dark and lifeless , without a way to escape his fate he panicked and found himself standing still and breathless. They carved into his face with

his own blades holding him down against the wet stone that pathed the streets, he screamed as the thunder roared and groaned and left all he voiced in a

cacophonous hymn. His eyes in a blur as they threw salt within them, the pain sank in as he felt them flay parts of his flesh that lay bare to sight. His screams left

unheard, his heart racing. In darkness they left, but little did they know he was not alone. He felt hands cold and tough at his shoulders.

Something warm wrap around his body, guiding Ivond through the rigid streets. And from there he felt warmth all around. A crunch filled the air as his feet landed on straw.

"A fire?"

Ivond asked in a harsh tone as it crackled from his throat.

“You're hurt”

He felt around his face, something warm and damp press against it. His vision began to clear. He saw eyes blue, piercing and prancing as they glared at him. Skin

white as his as the eyelids where dark and tired, hair yellow as corn and hat long rimmed and worn with age.

“What is your name stranger?”

He stopped for a moment, then continued to tend to his face. Ivond looked at him and smiled a little, his way of showing gratitude but he quickly released the

tension as blood slowly made way down his face.

“Thank you, I do believe I owe you a name for your kindness of helping me when you didn’t have too. My name is….”

“Who were those men? I heard what they were thinking.”

He began, quickly.

“Ivond, screamed father, as the son sat in gilded regret, have told of love. Hands to face, black hair touched the tears rolling down his sun-kissed cheeks. The coin

tossed by feet, the father's face transformed by madness and my hands playing a wicked melody. Why must this happen? Is love this dangerous?”

Ivond was afraid to speak, his mind raced on the thoughts of romance. How he missed the smell of his sheets when he awoke to find rinds from his lover eating a

fresh orange, his eyes with a smile to see him awake and welcoming the new day.

The kiss was much more…  The man’s lips made a faint smile. He was known and no longer had the shadows to keep him safe.

“My name is Ivond Avgar ”

He reached out to a shelf, his fingers thumbing through yarn and thread. The sheen against the fire caught Ivond’s eye as a needle made through the cut flesh upon

his face as if a butterfly’s kiss.

“My name….”

The man paused and looked upon Ivond with sad eyes  darkened by the brim of hat.

“Is Cole.”


End file.
